


touch is the first language

by thelivingbird



Category: His Dark Materials (TV), His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, it's actually bold to write G rated masriel fic very edgy stuff, rich people games, they're weirdos and it's time to represent that, very brief edward coulter, wholesome blindfolding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-19 00:01:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29617488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelivingbird/pseuds/thelivingbird
Summary: The air is cool tonight and if he pretends hard enough, he can imagine himself somewhere else.
Relationships: Lord Asriel/Marisa Coulter
Kudos: 15





	touch is the first language

The silk feels expensive. Leave it to these people to put money in something meant for a ridiculous party game. He rubs his thumb over it. “I’m not putting this over Stelmaria’s eyes.”

“It’s the only way to make the game fair!” Edward’s head is turned away, busy putting the blindfold over his own daemon. Asriel finds the idea of demeaning his daemon in the same way repulsive.

“I’ve agreed to participate, isn’t that enough?”

“No.” tuts Mrs. Kline. For such a rigid woman, Asriel was surprised this was the sort of thing she enjoyed. Even more surprising that she offered Asriel an invitation to this whole bloated get together. If it wasn’t for Asriel being at the wrong place at the wrong time by running into Edward at Jordan who offhandedly mentioned that his wife would be attending as well, he would have never been roped into coming. Being here, he realizes too late that the opportunity to have one of his strange yet thrilling conversations with the Mrs. Coulter, is not worth this humiliation.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Marisa watching him. He’s certain she cheated the draw from the hat to keep her safe from bumbling around this garden blind. Stelmaria growls at him as he attempts to tie the silk around her head. She shakes and paws at it, only stopping when Asriel rests his hand on her head.

“Let’s get this over and done with.” He ties his own around his face a bit too snug. It presses on his eyes. He should have taken a card out of Marisa’s book and made it loose so he could see the ground.

Mrs. Kline’s voice perked up, “Those of you that are blindfolded got the pin on your clothes. If you make it to the bell ringing without it being stolen, you win. Fail to protect it, you lose. For those who can see, if you’re caught trying to make the great theft, you will have to find a new target. The one with the most pins wins.” She giggles at her own rules. Asriel reassures himself that this will all be over soon and then they can all get back to what these nights are meant for: sitting around and drinking.

The bell rings and he can hear everyone wander off laughing and stumbling. He stands still, hands in his pockets.

“Asriel,” she sounds out every letter, “You have to go somewhere before we start after you!”

Stelmaria nudges Asriel’s side and he slowly meanders off. He looks like a fool with his arms stretched in from him shaking around to get a sense of place. The light from the house gets dimmer and the purple of the blind on his eyes blends into the black. The air is cool tonight and if he pretends hard enough, he can imagine himself somewhere else. He wonders how Marisa will use this as an opportunity to taunt him. The few times they’ve crossed paths she finds a new way to needle at him. Sometimes he’s sure he understands what’s happening between them, but then she throws in some new element that leaves him off balance. His stubbornness prevents him from making the first move. He wants her to know, to walk into this with her eyes open.

His hand meets marble. Hiding out here until this insipid game ends should make it as painless as possible. Stelmaria sits on the grass making a cool crunch, but sound continues. It’s farther away, but it is unmistakably the sounds of another person coming closer.

“Finally,” Asriel holds up his hands, “I won’t tell if you don’t. Just take the pin so I can take this damn thing off.”

Whoever it is doesn’t say anything. He can’t even hear the person breathing. Stelmaria tenses her muscles, Asriel can feel it in the back of his neck. His lips are pulled into a frown. Whatever this person is intending to do, they’re playing with their food. The instinct tells him that means it is Marisa, but from what little experience he’s had with her makes him think she would cut with her words, not some childish prank. It must be the Lauder man passing out in the rose bushes. He was holding himself at a rather difficult angle before the game even began. A collapse followed by a drooling mouth was inevitable.

A sigh escapes Asriel’s lips just before pressure is put on them. The smell of perfume suffocates him, but he only takes a deeper breath letting its sickly-sweet scent coat every inch of his lungs. The experience makes him feel like an adolescent, a secret kiss in a dark garden. He hardly moves, but Stelmaria purrs, without even being touched by the other daemon. She’s pawing at the grass.

He’s returning the kiss with equal passion. The poison is seeping through and if had less pride he may have shuddered. It has to be her. Who else in this gang of socialites would corner him like this, feel like this? But he needs to be certain. His hands reach for her, but they’re slapped away. He pulls at his blindfold, but her hand reaches up to stop him, grabbing his wrist. The blindfold is left undisturbed and with his free hand he takes the one that kept him in the dark. Asriel can feel the marquise cut of her diamond wedding ring. Asriel studied that ring at length as she would leave it lazily placed around a wine glass.

“You almost made it out alive.”

Marisa doesn’t respond.

The grin that appears on his face is only interrupted by his laughter. Asriel imagines the look on Marisa’s face to be priceless, but for the moment he agrees to her terms. He’ll let her have this moment of privacy.

“Take the pin before you slink back into the dark.” He removes the paper rose from his lapel and holds it out in the cold air. She doesn’t take it. He hears her walk away quickly. It may be his imagination, but he would swear that he heard the whine of the golden monkey.

The bell rings. After untying the blindfold from his head. Asriel runs his hands through his hair. Another side of Marisa to be surprised by. He takes the surviving pin back to the group. He’s the only one who was able to keep it.

Edward slaps him on the back, “Well done! I was out in the first five minutes.”

Marisa is dedicating all her attention to the paper lily in her hands pointedly ignoring Asriel’s eyes. He admires the fact that she still managed to finish the game with one casualty.

Mrs. Kline is being swarmed with compliments about what great fun the game was. Apparently, others were racing around in the shrubbery. No one went over to the statue garden for fear of thunking themselves on the head by accident. Marisa only tossed her battle won paper flower back in the box. Mrs. Lauder had beaten her with a mini bouquet of winnings. Asriel thought the woman would make an excellent pickpocket.

Stelmaria has her claws digging into the soil. The monkey evaded her grasp earlier and she is eager to rectify that. Asriel spends the rest of the evening picking at the skin of his thumb. He’s imagining her rewriting the event in her mind, convincing herself that it didn’t count, that the circumstances offered her some level of protection. She would go back to her home feeling as if her life remained undisturbed.

The party moves back inside. Asriel polishes off his wine, bringing the glass down so hard it a break forms at the base.

“We can’t simply leave now,” Stelmaria tells him.

“She’s been glued to her husband’s side all evening. We’re getting the brush off. I won’t make myself pathetic by begging for some acknowledgement.”

“I suppose it’s for the best. Too much work getting tangled up with a married woman.”

Asriel grunts in the affirmative. He is all too aware of himself as he makes his goodbyes slow, eyes darting around to see if he can lure her into another approach. She never does, of course. She disappears. The clouds overtake the sky. He walks out the door without looking back.

“I wasn’t trying to trick you, if that’s what you think that was.” She’s sitting on the steps. Her golden monkey is tearing the bark off a nearby tree. “Wanted to see what it would be like, that’s all.”

He smiles. “Alright. Why are you out here then?”

Marisa gestures to her daemon, “Needed to stretch his muscles.”

“Hm.” 

She stands up smoothing out the creases in her dress. “Off you go.”

Stelmaria has reached the monkey. He’s stopped with his destruction. He has one paw tentatively hanging in the air.

Asriel steps closer. “I’m sure we’ll see each other again at one of these things.”

“You’d put yourself through this again?”

“I think you’d agree that neither of us have much of a choice anymore.”

“Only if you’re weak.”

He considers grabbing her right then, but he was denied her face last time. He wants to take it all in. Every micro expression. Every shift in her eyes. Marisa glances to her daemon and presses her lips in a hard line when she sees him close the gap between his paw and Stelmaria, brushing through the fur on her neck.

Asriel uses both hands to turn her face back to him. “You’re much odder than people give you credit for.”

She huffs, “Get on with it then.” Her hands go to his sides before he begins to lean in. The expression on her face remains indignant, but her fingertips are eagerly playing with the fabric of his button down. Asriel considers turning on his heel and pulling Stelmaria along with him just for the sake of denying her, but he smells that perfume again and falls into her.

When he pulls away, she keeps her eyes closed for a moment longer. She opens her eyes only to raise a brow at him. She snaps her fingers, calling the golden monkey into her arms. Turning back to look at him before she reenters the house, the blankness in her gaze gives the impression that she just inked a business partnership. On impulse, he wants to match her body language, but he decides to make a show of it. Checking his watch. Brushing his own lips with his thumb.

“Well,” she tilts her head. “Good night then.”

“Good night, Marisa. Until next time.”

Though she is silhouetted from the light inside the house he can see her eyes assess him. She laughs, shaking her head at whatever thought just flitted across her mind before turning and walking through the threshold.


End file.
